Tools of Survival
by Asshatry
Summary: She has been feeling really insecure about herself, and wishes she could see the upper floors of the Sanctuary (SMUTT/FLUFF/ANGST)(OC is in a wheelchair).


I felt like crap and didn't have anyone to talk to. It didn't help that no one really understood what I was feeling; I was the only one at the Sanctuary stuck in a wheelchair and completely dependent on it. I couldn't even go up the stairs to the many other floors of the large factory building where we all lived. I was stranded on the first floor where I felt completely trapped. I know that I was lucky to still be alive and living in such a safe environment, but I wanted so badly to see something new for once.

I wheeled myself outside hoping to get a breath of fresh air. It was nighttime, and the moon was big and bright above my head. I pulled my chair out a ways and then turned around to face the building, looking up at it. It felt absolutely ridiculous, but I just wanted to see what the other floors looked like. That's where the other bedrooms were located; mine was on the first floor and it was the only bedroom located there. They had to set me up with a little makeshift room in a tiny office. I was grateful, but hated that everything about my situation had to be changed to fit my needs.

Sometimes I envied the others, especially on days when I was already feeling crappy in general. Independence was important to me, and I hated being such a pessimist, but I felt so helpless being stuck sitting in the chair. They really didn't realize how lucky they were, and I knew they took it for granted—being able to go up all those flights of steps whenever they wanted. I just wanted to see what they all talked about: the rec rooms, the library, the view. I liked to daydream about what they might look like.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" a booming voice shook me from my thoughts and brought me back to reality. My head snapped to the side, and I saw Negan was standing right next to me. I hadn't even realized he was there. He was squinting up at the building where I had been gazing up at myself, as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

"Nothing, sir," I answered, looking down at my lap. I didn't want to go into it with him, and figured he would just tell me to stop complaining. Negan didn't like whiners, but he had always been kind to me. No one at the Sanctuary was allowed to give me shit about the wheelchair; he made sure of that on day one.

He continued to gaze up at the factory, and then looked to where I was and smirked.

"You've never see the upper floors. That what got your panties in a bunch?"

I didn't answer him right away and was surprised he put it together so quickly. He was mostly right, I had been thinking about that, but I was also just felt like shit in general. I wasn't about to spill my heart out to Negan, so I just nodded in response.

Negan scratched his head and then looked back up at the factory building. There were little lights shining from some of the rooms through the glass windows, and it was actually quite a pretty sight. He didn't say anything for a while, and then turned and headed towards the doors leading back inside.

"Come with me," he ordered, already walking away. I didn't move, and just watched him in confusion. He reached the front door and opened it, and then turned to face me where I was across the yard.

"Don't make me roll you in here."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but knew he would do it if I didn't listen to him. Negan always got his way, and it wasn't a wise decision to disobey. I unlocked my wheelchair and followed him back inside the Sanctuary. He led me over to the stairwell, and I slid my hand on the rubber wheels as he stood in front of it. I gripped the wheels tightly, forcing the chair to come to a stop.

"Put that thing in park," he ordered, stepping out in front of me. I placed my fingers on either side where the black grips were and locked my chair, and then looked up at him in confusion. The next thing I knew, Negan was picking me up.

I gasped as I felt myself leave the chair, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as I was lifted into the air.

"Negan!" I cried out, looking down at the ground in terror. I hated heights, and hadn't been so high up in a long time.

"Hang on tight," he said. I clung to his neck as he started to carry me up the steps, like a bride being carried by her groom. I knew I must have looked so wide eyed and scared as he climbed each step. I glanced over his shoulder to where my wheelchair was parked by the entrance of the stairwell, and watched it disappear as Negan climbed the next set of stairs.

He carried me up flight after flight in silence, and I could hear his heavy breathing as he brought me with him. I half expected him to make some comment about my weight, but he didn't say anything. The muscles in his face were strained, but he looked very determined as he carried me up.

The stairs ended and we entered into a long hallway; it looked a lot like the first floor with the same paint, but there were more rooms. I glanced around in amazement, wanting to open each and every door and peek inside. Negan continued to carry me until we reached a big black door and he pushed it open with his foot. The room was huge and extremely fancy; there were all sorts of extravagant decorations and furniture and a huge bed with grey bedding.

I continued to gawk at the room and its furnishings as Negan set me down onto a couch. He grabbed one of the fancy chairs and slid it across the room towards a large window, and then came back over and scooped me back into his arms and carried me to the chair. He set me down once again and I stared up at him, still confused as ever. I had no idea what was happening or what to say to him.

"Get a load of this," he said, gesturing towards the window. I turned my head and would have sworn I felt my heart skip a beat.

The moon seemed even bigger and brighter than I had ever seen it before. The stars had come out, and their glow seemed to light up like little freckles dancing across the night sky. I gazed up at them in amazement, and then looked down to the ground. He had carried me to the very top floor of the Sanctuary. I could see the fence snaking along the building, and his patrol guards marching around the factory perimeter. They looked like ants.

I couldn't help but grin wide as I gazed out the window in fascination. It was a beautiful sight, and I wasn't even afraid being so high up. I felt safe where I was. I turned to thank Negan and realized he was gone. I looked around the room and wondered where he went, and when he would be back. It wasn't like I was going anywhere.

A few minutes later, he came back into the room and he rolled my wheelchair through the door. I smiled at it, happy to see he went and got it. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy being in his arms, but I liked being able to do things for myself.

"I figured the tour might go a little easier if we brought this," he said, placing a hand on the back of the chair and stopping to take a deep breath. Poor guy was getting his exercise going up and down all those stairs.

"Tour?" I asked.

"You want to see the place, don't you?" he shot back, sounding exasperated. I smiled at him and nodded, very eager for that.

I turned from him and looked out the window again, not wanting to miss the pretty view. Sure, I could go outside at night and gaze up at the stars, but here, on the highest level of the factory building, I felt like I was so much closer to them.

"What's going on in that head, darling?" Negan was dragging another chair over next to the one I was in and pulled it right up next to mine. He sat down and looked out at the stars, same as me. I felt my cheeks heat up, but continued looking out the window.

"I just don't feel good about myself," I admitted, not able to look at him as I spoke. It felt so stupid. I was alive, and I knew that I should be grateful for that. Most people didn't even have that and had turned into dead things by now, but I couldn't help but feel insecure.

"Why the fuck don't you feel good? You're smokin' hot!" he turned and looked at me, and I finally met his gaze with bewildered eyes. Negan had never made a comment about my appearance before. The man was usually busy with his multiple wives and running this place with an iron fist.

"I just feel pretty worthless," I admitted, trying to fight the tears that I knew were threatening to spill over any second. The least I could do was be honest with him for giving me such a nice gift.

"Fuck honey, because of your chair?" he asked, looking over at my wheelchair parked behind us. I shrugged and nodded, and then shook my head. It was that, but it was so much more. I felt like a burden, I felt frustrated, but I mostly felt angry at myself for feeling so negatively about myself.

"That chair makes you even more of a bad-ass than you already are," Negan's voice made me look up at him with watery eyes, not understanding where he could possibly be going with this. I couldn't even get myself up the stairs without his help. How was _I_ a bad-ass?

"You've survived longer than most people. You're still here, and that's because you're strong. You don't make it this far being a fucking pussy."

I snickered at his foul language, but he kept going.

"That chair is just something you use to survive, and we're all just trying to do that now. It's the same as any weapon or tool. Your chair is kind of like my Lucille, and you shouldn't be ashamed of it."

I looked over and saw his barbed wire baseball bat leaning near the doorway, ready to go whenever he needed it. He always carried her with him, as if he needed her to survive. Maybe he was right. My chair wasn't who I was, but it was something I used to help me get around. It was the key to my freedom and the tool to my independence. I wasn't weaker because of it; I was stronger.

Negan stood up and went over to my wheelchair, pulling it over next to the chair where I was sitting.

"And you shouldn't feel shitty about yourself. You're a really beautiful girl, and I bet you're a tiger in the sack too." He gave me one of his cocky grins, and I giggled. Leave it to Negan to also try and flirt with me while cheering me up.

"Ready to see the rest of the place?" he asked, smirking at me. I grinned up at him and nodded.

'Thank you, Negan," I said, no longer feeling like I was going to cry. I hoped I sounded as sincere as I felt. He hadn't just given me one hell of a view tonight, but had helped me changed my entire outlook. As he helped me get back into my wheelchair, I no longer felt so helpless. I felt like Negan, wielding his beloved baseball bat over his shoulder. He gestured to the door with a smile.

"Let's go."

I didn't have to wonder what those upper floors looked like anymore. Negan gave me an entire tour, including the large rec-room that I had always heard so much about. There were games and even a ping-pong table that Negan was very eager to show me. He asked me if I knew how to play, and I confessed that I never tried it. He promised that he would teach me, and I looked forward to it.

I few days later, I was headed to my room when I heard snickering coming from behind me. I turned to see three men standing off to the side. They were new to the Sanctuary, and they looked young. As I faced them, I realized quickly that they were laughing at me. I narrowed my eyes at them.

"What are you staring at?" I spat, irritation clear in my voice. They continued to giggle, and the tallest one smirked at me.

"Someone better call Optimus Prime! There's an Autobot on the loose!" The others burst out laughing and practically fell onto the floor. I rolled my eyes and turned to leave. I didn't need to stick around for their stupid jokes.

But as I placed my hand on the rubber wheels and tried to move forward, the chair was frozen in place and would not budge. I looked over my shoulder to see that the tall man was now holding my chair by the back wheels, and was preventing me from moving.

"Let go!" I growled, trying to move my chair forward again.

"Where ya going, Wheels?" he asked, leaning over me with a nasty smile. I glared at him and went to speak, when suddenly my chair was being tilted forward. I shrieked and grasped the arm rests tightly as my body started to slide out of the wheelchair.

"Better hang on!" he taunted, lifting my chair up even more. I felt my legs fall out of the chair and hit the ground, pulling the rest of me down too. I completely fell out of the chair and landed on the ground roughly. The tall man pulled my wheelchair away from me and sat down in it, spinning the wheels and moving back and forth. The others continued to laugh, and I watched them from where I was, crumpled up on the ground. I felt tears start to roll down my cheeks and had never felt so helpless.

"My turn! My turn!" one of the men yelled, wanting a chance to play around in my chair. I watched as they started to switch out, when a loud voice filled the hallway, making them all jump.

"What the _FUCK_ is going on here?"

They all turned to see Negan was standing at the end of the hallway with his arms crossed. He had noticed them playing in my chair and was trying to figure out what was happening, and then his eyes went to me, on the floor, crying. I could see the fire that filled his eyes even from my place on the ground.

The man who had dumped me out of the wheelchair approached Negan cautiously, and motioned over to where I was.

"We were just helping her back into her chair. Sh-she fell out!" he sputtered. He went to walk over to where I was, but Negan grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him up against the wall really hard. He was practically lifting him off his feet. The man was trembling and gulped as Negan leaned in really close to him, scowling. The other two men stood by just as terrified, but they didn't dare move. Negan continued to glare at the man in his death grip, and then a sick smile spread across his face. He reached down and took out his radio, and pressed a little button.

"Simon?" he asked into it, eyes still locked to the kid in his grasp.

"Yeah boss?" Simon's voice answered back in a matter of seconds.

"I've got some boys who just volunteered to help out at the fence!" He was referring to the fence with his walkers that was right out in front of the factory. Negan made people keep the walkers lively by poking and prodding them. It was a very dangerous job, and the men who got bit ended up workings as walkers themselves.

"Sweet! Where they at?" Simon asked, sounding very amused at the idea of putting more men to work at the fence.

"First floor. Come get them."

The young man that was still in Negan's death grip was pleading with him not to send him to the fence. The others were blubbering out apologies at Negan, but he ignored them.

"But we didn't do anything!" The one shoved up against the wall yelled. Negan dropped him back onto his feet and punched him hard in the stomach, sending the man toppling to the ground in pain. The others sank back away from Negan and started to tremble as they watched their friend roll on the ground.

It didn't take long before Simon and a few Saviors entered the hallway and escorted the men outside. Simon and his men hadn't even looked down to where I was huddled onto the floor, and once they were gone, Negan turned his attention on me. He approached me and got down onto a knee to help me sit up. I could feel the tears spilling down my cheeks and the red hot warmth of my cheeks from being so humiliated. I wanted to evaporate right then and there.

"Are you okay?" Negan asked, picking me up into his arms. He was looking me over to see if I had any injuries, but physically I wasn't hurting. Emotionally, I felt drained and defeated.

I shook my head in response and did my best to fight the tears. I just wanted to be set back into my chair and left alone, but he carried me past it and started to head towards the stairs. I didn't understand where he was taking me, but I buried my face into his chest and closed my eyes, not wanting him to see me cry anymore.

He carried me back up to the top floor and to the big room he had brought me to a few days prior. I felt myself being set down on top of the bed, and I looked up at him. He was propping me up against some pillows, making sure I was comfortable.

"I fucking promise you doll, that shit will never happen again."

I nodded, completely unsure of what to say. The tears continued to well up in my eyes, and I felt my bottom lip quiver. I hadn't experienced people like that in a long time. I know it had been a big joke to them, but it was so degrading to be laughed at and dumped out onto the ground like I was nothing. People usually just stared and whispered to one another about the girl in the wheelchair. I didn't know which one was worse.

Negan reached up a hand and brushed the tears away, smiling sympathetically at me. It made me cry even harder. I didn't want his pity. I wanted him to treat me the same as he would treat anyone else, but I was starting to recognize that the relationship we were building was the opposite of that. I was getting special treatment.

"Don't cry," he whispered, pulling me so I was pressed into his chest. I was a bit startled as he wrapped his arms around me. I pulled away a bit and looked up at his rugged features just in time for him to press his lips against mine. The kiss was very soft and light, and I backed my head away almost immediately.

"Negan?" I was searching his eyes for an answer for why he would do such a thing. He smiled at me again and started to pull me back in for another kiss, but I placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"Don't," I said low, and it was much more commanding than I had expected it to be. He leaned back and rose an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," he said, moving away to give me more space.

"Don't be!" I quickly added, sniffling and turning my head away. "I just don't want your pity."

"My pity?!" his voiced boomed a bit, and I nodded.

"Yeah, I get it. I'm the girl in the wheelchair who is getting picked on, and you're supposed to be the knight in shining armor that saves me. But I don't want that. I don't want to feel so fucking weak," my voice cracked as I spoke, "I don't want you to look at me like you're looking at me right now. Like I'm some fragile little girl that needs to be carried up some stairs. You said it yourself, I've made it this far because I'm strong. I don't need you to rescue me, Negan."

He was gazing down at me as I finished speaking, and I turned back to face him. He had a hint of a smile threatening his lips as his hazel eyes bore into mine. I let out a sigh, and was just about to suggest he bring me back to my wheelchair when he placed a hand on my thigh. I couldn't feel it, but I looked down as he touched me, and he seemed to be gauging if I felt his touch.

"I don't pity you," he said it so serious. "I admire the fuck out of you. I think you're absolutely beautiful and I want you. It's that simple."

Part of me wanted to believe him, but I couldn't imagine why Negan would want to be with someone like me.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, moving so he would be more comfortable sitting next to me on the bed. I nodded.

"I had to use one of those chairs when I was younger. It was a sports injury, and I was in high school. My friends gave me so much shit about it, and I had used to think those things would be fun to use. Boy was I fucking wrong." He shook his head and looked off as if he was reminiscing. "I remembered how people would stare and ask so many fucking questions like I was famous or shit. They wanted to know what happened, what it was like… and it fucking sucked. I needed help in almost everything I did, and I couldn't wait to get rid of the thing."

He looked back over at me, and I didn't respond. I just waited for him to continue.

"But you're stuck with it, so why not make the best out of it, right? That's what we all tell you, because we don't get it. Hell, even I don't really get it, do I?"

I shook my head. I noticed this conversation was going in a very different direction than the one we had where he had compared my chair to his bat. Negan looked over at the door and then back to me. He let out a long breath, and then licked his lips.

"To me, the wheelchair was a temporary tool. It was just something I had to use to help me get better. It's every day for you. It's very much a part of who you are, whether you want it to be or not. And that's the difference."

I didn't really know what to say. What did this have to do with kissing me just now?

"Your chair is absolutely your Lucille. But as much as I love my beautiful Lucille, I exist just the same without her…" he started to trail off, lost in thought. Then he turned back to face me and smiled wide.

"Call me corny, but I wanna get to know the girl in the wheelchair. And not because she's in a wheelchair. I want to get to know the girl who was looking up at my Sanctuary like it was a castle, and the girl who acted like a kid in a candy store when I showed her my library. I want to kiss the girl who was gazing up at the stars, and one day have her look at me that way."

If he was trying to tear down my walls, it was working. I was looking up at him from where I was propped up against the pillows, with pink cheeks and a thin smile on my lips. Negan wasn't being nice to me because he felt sorry for me. He wanted me, and as we smiled at one another, I realized I wanted him too.

"Let's get you back downstairs," he said, as he started to get off the bed.

"Wait," I said, sitting up as best I could. Negan helped me sit up all the way, and I reached out as he did and placed a hand against his cheek. I felt the rough stubble of his beard against my hand, and I looked up into his eyes.

"Kiss me," I whispered, hoping I didn't look as desperate as I sounded.

He grinned wide and cupped my cheek. 'You don't gotta ask me twice."

When he kissed me again, I kissed him back, feeling his mouth on mine as we both explored one another. My hand left his face and slid down to his chest where I gripped his shirt tightly, balling it into my fist, not wanting him to stop. We continued to kiss as he laid me back onto the pile of pillows. I hadn't expected this to happen, but I wasn't about to stop it. I wanted Negan, and he wanted me.

My hand that was pressed to his chest ventured south until it brushed up against his erection. My eyes went wide, and I gasped as he chuckled against my mouth. I hadn't expected him to be so hard already. I fondled him through his pants, and he let out a hiss.

"You keep playing with it and I'm not gonna be able to help myself," he breathed out. His hands had started to trail down to my breasts, but he was hesitant. I lightly squeezed his dick and looked up at him with eager eyes.

"It's okay," I told him. I needed him to keep going—needed him not to stop.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and already I could feel his large hand start to caress one of my breasts. I nodded and leaned up to kiss him hard.

Negan smiled down at me and then pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it across the room. I stared up at his chest hair in fascination, and he helped me sit up to pull my shirt over my head. I shivered as my exposed skin met the cool temperature of the room and I got goosebumps. He kissed down my neck towards my breasts and unhooked my bra. I arched my back into his touch, and he chuckled as he took a nipple into his mouth.

My skin felt overly sensitive as he sucked and nipped at my flesh. I continued to palm the front of his pants, and then he moved off the bed and removed his pants. The moment he was bare before me, I stared down at him and suddenly felt very nervous. As if he read my mind, Negan placed two hands on my hips where my pants were and leaned over me to place another long kiss against my lips.

"I'll be gentle," he whispered, slowly pulling down my pants and panties down my legs. It was impossible, but I'd have sworn I felt the cool air against the skin on my legs.

I took a deep breath and leaned back onto the pillows, putting my trust completely in him. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, but I felt so vulnerable lying there.

I was exhaling slowly just as Negan pressed into me, ever so slowly. My blood pressure raised and I felt it in a way that few would understand. I couldn't buck my hips and meet his thrusts, but I let out a soft moan as he pressed in further.

"Fucking hell," Negan hissed, and I looked up to see he was watching his dick disappear inside me. I closed my eyes and tried to get lost in it, to just dissolve into pleasure.

A few moments later, my eyes flew open as Negan was leaning over onto me and kissing my neck. The sensation made me cry out; my skin was suddenly so sensitive to his touch. He sucked against my neck softly and I gripped the bed sheets, desperate for a release.

The feeling of Negan's mouth and of him being inside me built up into a heavy heat inside me, and I scrunched my face and allowed myself to just let go. I threw my head back onto the pillows and cried out, and Negan's lips left my neck. He kissed my mouth as I rode out my high.

I didn't feel Negan pull out, but I was fully aware when he was no longer inside of me. I was gasping for breath and then looked up to see Negan was cleaning my lower stomach where he had came. I started to laugh and leaned back again, still trying to come down.

He walked around to the other side of the bed and crawled next to me and pulled me into his arms. I leaned against him a bit and let out a short laugh.

"I didn't take you for much of a cuddler, Negan," I teased him, looking up into his eyes.

"I'll make an exception for you, sweetheart," he murmured, placing a kiss down against my forehead.

I closed my eyes and nuzzled into his chest, and drifted off to sleep.


End file.
